


He Dances on Ice and Between Stars

by QueenofWitchBlood



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Yuuri's a secret poet, demisexual-panromantic!yuuri, longhaired!viktor, poetry au, who loves victor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 23:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8772871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofWitchBlood/pseuds/QueenofWitchBlood
Summary: Yuuri's eyes were drawn to him again, warmth blossoming between his ribs in the general area of his heart and he realised: he was in love....AKA the Viktuuri fic where Yuuri is a poet and is in love with one Viktor NikiforovThere will be snippets of short poems? Maybe even just in poetic form ayyyymight stay a one shot or become more idk yetyes all poems are original and created by me. I have a poetry and writing tag on my tumblr as well [tho i'm too shy to post it here so lmao its all just gay poem s ]





	

Skates scraped against the ice before launching their wearer into the air, body spinning, once, twice, thrice, four times, before they landed once again. The abrupt audience ooh'ed and aah'ed softly, holding their cold hands to their chests. None could take their eyes off the man dancing on the ice.

His eyes were shut in reverence, earphones clogging up his ears with soft music. He turned again, moving into a laid back Irina Bauer as he spun lazily. There was no rush to his movements, only a continuous flow to show that he belonged on the ice. His hair followed his smooth movements, only accentuating his sharp features and lending softness to his strong cheekbones.

Katsuki Yuuri, self proclaimed poet and searcher for inspiration, couldn't take his eyes off the beautiful man. He'd come to the skating rink with the hope that some idea would come to him for his next poem, but had instead found a most sublime man in its stead.

Yuuri felt his mind was surprisingly silent, with no thoughts or words cluttering his mind as he watched the man dance across the ice with breathless delight. His pencil lay still against empty white paper, hands weak and seemingly unable to even bring his pencil up to scratch doodles into the blank space before it. The Japanese man swallowed heavily, the cold nipping at his cheeks, the now cold throw-away cup of hot chocolate beside him forgotten.

Yuuri had noticed the man almost immediately when he'd stepped onto the local open rink, his attention drawn away from the rather boring couples skating over the ice to bright, long hair and the sharp, beautiful features that the other man had. His breath stuttered out of him as he tore his rather intense gaze away from the skater, cheeks burning hotter as he saw the other stop skating.

Blue eyes like the sky caught his gaze accidentally and Yuuri felt he'd been punched in the fucking gut. Holy shit. Shit, shit, shit. Yuuri, flustered when the other man winked at him cheekily, scrambled to collect his things before practically running away. He glanced back once more, blush returning with a vengeance when he noticed the stunning skater had been moving to the bench where the Japanese man has sat, a soft, disappointed frown twisting his gorgeous face.

Yuuri's eyes were drawn to him, warmth blossoming between his ribs in the general area of his heart and he realised: he was in love.

... Damn.

\----------------------------------!---------------------------------

The next morning, Viktor Nikiforov opened his favored poets magazine, eyes scanning for something new and interesting to better his morning mood. His eyes lit up at the sight of his favorite poet, pen-named PecilNothings, new poem, his breath catching in his throat before being released in a soft sigh.

_There is a broad nothingness that surrounds him,_   
_unobtainable, he dances ever away,_   
_between the ice and the stars_   
_from which he was born,_   
_he moves,_   
_and the earth stops,_   
_to witness the beauty of creation anew._

_I do not dare bring myself to him,_   
_for nothing good can come from touching stars_   
_if one is afraid of being burned_   
_from the inside out._


End file.
